I know, I know: Mrs C and I were chez la soeur de Madame C last night, and a very good evening it was, too. So my apologies for the absence of a bloglog, but I hope I may be forgiven.

You must think I'm going a bit loopy, because after all my ramblings about Brazil, I didn't mention once the reason why I was going on about it. It was because, as some of you will already have worked out, we have a new Follower in Brazil. So that, I hope, explains that.

Today has been a day of mixed emotions, because it was dominated by the funeral of the late, great legend that was my former colleague, deputy head, head of department and great friend, Mr Nicholas Aldridge. The service was held in Worcester Cathedral, and was, quite frankly, stunning. The Red Choir, of which I was privileged to be a part (Mr Langdon, the former director of music was playing the organ) sounded amazing, and the whole event was one that no doubt caused a smile to pass across the lips of Mr A. He was taken, sadly, by Parkinson's Disease, but if you had known him as I did in his earlier years as a man of tremendous presence, scholarly excellence, decency and gentlemanly conduct, you would have know that this was someone very, very special. He came to SF in 1948 as a boy, won the 5th KS to Eton, thence to Cambridge and a fine degree, and then back to SF, where he remained for the rest of his days. He was, quite simply, a lovely man - and while it was very sad for us old stagers to see him as he was towards the end of his days, we remember him with very great affection.

So, having driven the minibus back to SF, how to lift one's spirits. By being with your LMs, of course. Tonight has been a wonderful evening, hilarious and crazy, but with a befitting sombreness. NEA (for those were his initials) would have loved it.

'Sir, which book should I read, one or two?'

'Two'.

'Thank you, sir.'

'Are you going into the showers with your socks on, H*****? It will be a soggy affair if you do'.

'I think you mean 'socky', sir'.' (Ho ho. It must be catching.)

'Sir can I try and make you laugh?' Thus followed a load of random jokes and faces, and I have to say that I lost - eventually. So well done, E*****. (And M**)

'That gives you a flavour of the evening, which culminated in a vociferous rendering of the Silent Reading Song, of which NEA would have approved greatly. He and I once wrote a spoof musical of 'Lord of The Flies', which was performed by the staff and rehearsed in secret. The boys had no idea, and when they were hauled into Macmillan Hall by the previous HM, Mr Talbot Rice, they thought they were in for a b********g. They were all given an envelope, which, they were told, was a letter for their parents, telling them of their poor behaviour. When they were instructed to read the letter, so that they could see for themselves 'how serious this all was', they discovered, to their great delight and amusement, that the 'letter' was, in fact, a programme - and we all had the most marvellous evening's entertainment.

Dear NEA: I shall miss him - and so will many, many others.

Goodnight.

Nick Aldridge, MA (Cantab)

RIP.